Scars of War
by RedbirdValour
Summary: Oneshot Blaise/Hermione rated T for Paranoia. Hermione reflects on her missing love at a memorial service... 'You are gone, and clouds appear slowly in the once cloudless sky. Then I cry.' DISCLAIMER; do not own characters, they belong to J.K. I only own the plot of this story.


I look in the mirror one last time. I've placed my chocolate and caramel curls in an up-do, a black hat, with a net covering my face. I smooth the creases of my black dress, and put on my soft leather gloves you gave me a few months prior to the war. Neat, presentable. Not a hair out of place. That does not calm me, though. I head out of my room, trying my best to not cry. I make sure my pseudo sister Ginny is ready, and Mrs Weasley and we go to Church, just like all of the villagers. We head there for a reason. We head there to mourn. Mourn for our loved ones, whom sacrificed themselves for us, for the country. For the war. I remember it all too clearly, and the memories of the wounded will haunt me until the day I die. I remember it all.

_I am with you, standing nervously, holding a crutch as people say goodbye to their loved ones. I feel sick. You had barely turned nineteen when you were forced to spy for Dumbledore. To be a soldier, killing people, pretending to be a Death Eater. Tears stream down my face, and I close my eyes. I know immediately that you can see the pained expression on my face. I felt I was dying. I suddenly feel your soft, calloused hands wiping a stray tear from my cheeks, and I can hold it in no more. I embrace you tightly, holding on for dear life. You hold me, stroking my hair. I feel your warm, sweet, cinnamon-like breath on the nape of my neck. After a few moments, we reluctantly move apart. My head drifts downwards. Your finger lifts it back up, my golden honey eyes meeting your rich, warm chocolate eyes, flecked with gold. I have to do something. Anything. I don't want you to go. _

"_I don't want you to go." I repeat, voicing my thoughts. You shut your eyes briefly, and suck a quick emotion of pain flashes on your face that if I blinked I would've missed it. _

"_I've got to go, Hermione. I have no choice. You were injured too severely in the Battle of Hogwarts to continue, and I can only find joy in that you're not allowed to continue. As soon as the war is over, I promise I will come back. 'Till then, you'll be alright. I will come back, I will survive. For you. You hear that? I will come back to YOU. I will come back and you will be here, this very spot. Then not long after it will be Christmas time, and I will walk with you, and I will ask you to marry me. Then the first snowflake of winter shall fall, the moon high in the sky, and we will be happy. But you shall just have to wait." I nod, and you give me a kiss on the forehead. _

_"Please," you speak again, "Look after Yourself? And my family? And little Alaric? He adores you. Mum would be too busy with Emmaline, so you are going to have to take care of this for me. Please?" I nod once, and use a finger to trail a line on your jaw._

"_Yes, Blaise Ares Zabini. I promise you. We will be together one day. I will look after Alaric for you. I love you." I whisper, and place a tender cheek to your cheek. You bring your palm up, and I do the same, mine touching yours. Our fingers twine together, and you give me one last kiss. Then they call for you. We part as slowly as we are allowed, our fingertips the last thing we hold, before you have to walk away to the other soldiers. You disappear in the distance, and all I see of you is your face, lined with pain, and the golden glint of your messy, sandy brown hair. I race (though it was really more of a limp) to the edge of the 'safe house village' as you are taken away, longing to see you for a few moments longer. Then you are gone, and clouds appear slowly in the once cloudless sky. Then I cry._

Professor Flitwick does the sermon. He tells us of the great heroism our deceased showed. Men, defending our wizarding populace. He mentions how the fighters kept us safe. How it was a great tragedy, but now they are resting up inside the magic gates of Avalon, right up there with Merlin. He tells about how they were always with us. In the letters, our memories, our hearts. The next thing shocks me. He says for us to pray for you. I already do. But everybody else? I did not understand. Everybody's face flickers to mine as he continues. He says for us to pray that you come home, that you are not dead like the Ministry wants us to think. Just missing. I pray already for this, night and day. He asks me to share a memory of you, so we know exactly what to pray for. To give us hope. So I tell them about your letters. I speak one out. I know it off by heart.

_Dearest Hermione, _it read.

_I love you, and miss you every day. My little bird, it pains me, to see faces of both my comrades and the Death Eaters, to see their eyes holding no spark of life. But we are coping. Or we at least act it. I myself dread each battle, every time I take a life, it rips me apart inside. I think of the families left behind. But I do it so I can see you again. I have a new word for you. Cara. It means 'beloved' in Italian, my homeland. You are my Cara, my love. I will keep my promise to you. Someday, I will come home. I know it. I miss you. For you, I will go through Hell and back. I am, really. I cannot give you any information on where we are, and I'm not sure how much of this letter has been removed, but I miss you._

_I shall keep you safe and sound._

_With love,_

_Blaise Zabini_

With tears in my eyes, I proceed tell the village how most of the letter was blacked out, but I managed to read it after a while. A tear falls down my face, and Mrs Weasly, Ginny and your Brother Alaric clutch onto me tightly, and Mother Helen and Emmaline are crying, being comforted by your father. "Are there any other memories you'd like to share with us Hermione?" asks Professor Flitwick. I shake my head, unable to speak. Slowly the gathered survivors slowly disperse, trickling away from the memorial, like a sluggish raindrop on the window of the church, the one that falls down our Merlin's face in the rain.

Mrs Weasley rubs my shoulders and gives a mournful smile, tears falling freely. I nod. She is going home with Ginny to give me my privacy. Ginny barrels into me, and I bone crushing hug, but soon, too soon, they have gone. I remember how much Ginny had to grow up during the war. I close my eyes tight, and kept the despair I was supressing fall freely in sobs that wracked every muscle in my body. Once I feel I can keep myself in check, I shuffle myself closer to the memorial and read your name. _Blaise Ares Zabini, M.I.A. _

How did it feel, being in the last years of the war? Watching your troopers and friends fall beside you, dropping like flies from something as simple as two words? Spending days on end in the dank trenches which you took so long to dig? To fell the pounding adrenaline rush through you as you face the fire and the smoke, the gas and the spells, unable to see far ahead, possibly killing you own men in the process? How does it feel to taste the dirt as it flies into your mouth, and the blood of yourself and others, filling you with a tangy, coppery taste? To feel the smoke scraping in your lungs? To be inches away from death, then survive? I can only comprehend what this felt like during the first years of war, but not after. Not when it had gotten worse. Or how about the thoughts that raced in your mind? I swallow deeply, and do the thing I was supposed to do. I place the letter at the memorial, along with a white lily-the ones you always loved, remember? - And then I unclasp a long silver chain from my neck, and place it next to the letter and the rose. The family heirloom of yours, remember? The silver and sapphire engagement ring, lined with emeralds. Wiping my tears one last time, I walk away, and the thunder and the lightning begin.

Tonight, I will go home. I will eat my dinner in silence. I will wash and take a bath, and before I fall into slumber, I will pray. I will pray for you, my dear Blaise, my dear soldier. I will pray for you to come home. I will pray for you to keep my hope. I will pray for you night and day. I will pray for you until the day I die.

I will have hope and pray for you Blaise, to come home safe and sound. My dearest love. My Cara. I will hope.

Fin.

A/n Hey! this was an edited version of my story that got my a 7a in English! It was originally about WW2, but I edited it to fit my purpose.


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